Strategy
by Alias - Eyelash - Blue
Summary: Jude survived the bomb blast, but killed Jasmine Hadley. He can't ignore the fact that Meggie chose Callie over him, and now he's out for revenge. A new student at Heathcroft takes a shine to Callie, but Toby's sure he's involved in Jude's sinister plan.
1. Chapter 1

(I did not reread the book before writing this so I've forgotten the exact details. Sorry if the continuity and details are a little off, but I'll revise it later. Hope you like it)

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**Part One: Tic**

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**O Jude**

She wouldn't do it. Mum. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't. She only wanted the best for me, and she'd never hurt me, not if she thought I had a chance. Unfortunately, I was going to have to hurt her to get my chance. No way would I get out of this room alive if we did this by the rules. The rules had gone out the window. Except for the only concrete rules I ever lived by.

**Rule 18: Family you can live without, because you have to.**

"Go on then. Make your choice," I snarled at her, and I saw the pain and sadness in her face as I did so.

"Jude please..." she whispered.

"Me, your own son, or the Dagger bitch that ruined our lives!"

"Jude!" mum snapped; she didn't like me saying Dagger, even after all this. She used the same tone that she always did in my childhood, and it shut me up sharp. I was surprised it still had any affect. It was funny that it could still happen in such a dangerous situation. Such an absurd situation.

I sat still and silent, but I carefully turned my head away from my mum in the doorway.

"I have to do this for Callie Rose. She deserves to be free of you," Mum said, barely more than a whisper.

"Leave then," I said to mum quietly, but I was watching Jasmine Hadley, who seemed to be swaying slightly. "You've obviously made your decision already," I tensed in my chair, waiting for the moment. Mum didn't say anything. She couldn't deny that. "but I'll promise you one thing: I'm not dieing here,"

The Hadley dagger bitch had her eyes closed.; maybe she was about to pass out. I certainly hoped so. That would make everything a lot easier. Mum didn't see, because she wasn't looking. She didn't look at me or Jasmine, I think she was using all her willpower just to walk out of the room and close the door; she wouldn't be able to do it if she looked.

I was waiting for the click of the door closing, but it stopped, hanging open a crack. I didn't turn, but out of the corner of my eye, through the slither in the door I could see mum. She gave me a very long, mournful look, and then she said, sounding like she was about to cry. "I love you Jude," And pulled the door closed.

I realised then, how much I wanted to stay alive.

I blocked it out. I couldn't afford the distraction.

I was sat on the edge of my seat, poised, like a spring. The door clicked, and that was my cue. I leaped across the room. I saw Jasmine's eyes fly open in shock, as I rushed at her, and then in one movement I had her up against the wall. Her finger slipped on the switch, and for one heart stopping moment I thought it had gone off, but I grabbed her hand and forced them down to her sides. I pushed myself up against her, crushing her against the wall, so she couldn't move.

It made me feel physically sick to be this close to her. Her body was bony, stick thin, she probably could have caused a lot of pain if she had fought with those pointy elbows, but she didn't fight. She was shaking beneath me. I had her hands held tightly in my own fist, and with my other hand I reached up. There was one wire, I knew. It was a dangerous move. I was off balance and she could have gotten the upper hand if she tried, but I was taking my chances. Now was the time to take risks, and she didn't look capable of trying anything now, but I was wrong.

Her hands twisted out of mine, and scrambled over the jacket. My hand found the wire, and I hooked my fingers into it, but at the same time her finger found the switch. We froze like that. Her about to detonate, and me about to disconnect. I could feel her harsh breathing in my ear.

"Bitch," I hissed softly in her ear.

"I know you want me to die," she said quietly, tiredly, "but the only way you can do that is with this bomb, and that would kill you too,"

"There are a lot of ways I can kill you," I said. She looked me straight in the face then, and she knew I wasn't lying.

Then the fire alarm went off suddenly. The loud bell caught us both by surprise, but Jasmine jumped violently at the sound. And as she did, her hand fumbled once more, and the switch flicked. I swear I heard the tiny click of the switch even over the screaming fire alarm. I tensed, and Jasmine eyes snapped shut again, but nothing happened. Seconds felt like years, and then I exhaled slowly and brought my hand down, holding the wire.

Jasmine's eyes opened wide and she stared at it. "You disconnected it?" she breathed.

Maybe it was the shock, or relief, but somehow I found it unbearably funny, and like a psychopath, I started to laugh. I was shaking trying to hold in the peals of laughter the felt like they were trying to crawl up my throat.

"How is this funny?" Jasmine asked, as I threw myself away from her. I shook my head meaninglessly. Of all the things that I had been expecting today, this was the last.

"What now?" I asked.

Jasmine said nothing. We stood in silence, listening to the endless fire alarm. I had to get out of here before the police came, but she probably wasn't going to let me out of here unless I was in handcuffs. An idea began to form. I started to walk confidently, purposefully across the room. Jasmine still did, and said nothing; she had no power over me now.

"They want a fire. I'll give them a fire," I muttered.

I opened a drawer in the bedside table, and brought out a box of matches. Jasmine sat down on the bed, making the cheap springs squeak, looking exhausted, she wasn't watching me. She didn't seem to care. I selected my match and struck it. The match flared, and flamed up, I trailed it along the edge of the curtains.

They caught fire immediately and the flames quickly ate away at them. Then I kept lighting matches and randomly throwing them into the corners, onto the carpet. The room began to smoke, and soon it would be ablaze. The bomb may not be activated, but explosives were still explosives, fire was still fire, and she was still wearing it.

So all in all I had been kind to her. I wasn't giving her a long slow burn, but a quick sudden death. She sat on the bed, with her head in her hands. She wasn't hiding her pain now, as she groaned aloud.

I wasn't sure if she even noticed as I left the room and locked the door. At the end of the corridor, I couldn't help turning. The do not disturb sign was still swinging on the handle, and black smoke was curling out from the crack under the door. I started running.

I was streets away from the hotel, but I still heard the explosion, and I almost felt the ground shake.


	2. Chapter 2

"_There has been only one fatality of the Isis Hotel bomb blast. Dental records identified the victim as Jasmine Hadley, wife of former MP, Kamal Hadley. Mrs Hadley appeared to be the target of a well planned terrorist attack by the Liberation Militia, which police suspect was headed by Jude McGregor, who has connections with the family. As a result of the attack Mr Hadley has resigned from his position in office..."_

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_**X **__**Sephy**_

Oh god mother, what did you do?

What did Jude do?

What happened?

Oh my god.

I couldn't think. And the only thoughts I had, I couldn't stop them from repeating themselves over in my head. I hugged Callie to me, as hard as I could, as tears began to roll down my cheeks. Oh god Mother. Jude killed my mother.

"Mum," Callie choked, her voice muffled by my cardigan, and the tears she was trying to hide.

"Yes," I said, trying to stop my voice from shaking. I had to be strong for Callie now, to let her know that I was here for her.

"It's my fault,"

"No Callie," I said to her, a little sternly, looking her in the face. "Don't think that. None of this is your fault,"

"But... Mum," She cried jerkily, the tears now falling freely. "The bomb... was mine. I – My bomb... killed Nana Jasmine,"

Ah, I thought, but that was all. No shock. Nothing. None of this was going to be blamed on Callie.

"No," I said, "Jude killed Nana Jasmine, and he'll be caught and convicted for it," Even as I said those words, a spark of doubt ignited.

"He'll come after me Mum. He always does!" She cried, almost hysterical now.

Right now she looked so much smaller than sixteen. Right now Callie wasn't the moody, spiteful teenager I had been interacting with for the last couple of months. She was vulnerable, and scared. And Jude had created both those extremes; the vulnerability, and the spitefulness, but I wouldn't let him hurt Callie anymore. I pulled her into another hug, that almost crushed her, but she absorbed it, and clung onto me.

"I won't let him hurt you Callie, Trust me," I whispered. "because I love you,"

And I was going to tell her that every single day until she believed it. Jude was responsible for my mothers death, but he wasn't going to cause any more pain for Callie, because I wasn't going to let him anywhere near us, and I would be with her, supporting her for every minute of every day.

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**O Meggie**

I dropped the mug of tea I had been holding, which smashed on the floor. The brown liquid spread out over the kitchen tiles.

It didn't work. It had taken so much effort to keep myself from turning back, from saving the two lives I had just condemned, but I had forced myself to keep walking, and for what? The life of one good person had been lost, and the life of a terrorist murderer had been saved, but he was my son.

My son was still alive. And no matter what I couldn't help feeling good about that, but I could have stopped this. I could have saved them both. Why did this have to be so hard? I hadn't meant for this to happen. It was awful, but I still felt glad somewhere, and guilty because of that. I still had one son. And yet he was such a danger. To Sephy. To my granddaughter. Oh, Jude.

All I could do was the obvious. I picked up the shards of crockery and wiped up the spilled tea. Then I sat in the kitchen, breathing slowly in and out.

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**O Tobey**

I heard the news late. I couldn't believe I hadn't heard about it. Why hadn't I heard about it? I couldn't believe it.

I had to see Callie. All I could think about was the way Callie had been on the beach that morning. I pictured her beautiful eyes glinting green with emotion and falling tears. I knew how much she loved her Nana Jasmine. She had been almost the only person Callie had been close with in the last couple of months, excluding me. I wanted to be there for her, but I didn't know if she would want my comfort, and anyway, what sort could I give that would be any use?

Of course I was still in front of her house seconds later. I wished I had more time to think about these things, but there I was loitering, yet again, in front of her door. I raised my hand up uncertainly to knock, unsure if my intrusion was welcome, but the door opened before I could. Sephy stood in the doorway, her grief clearly written on her face.

"Tobey..." she said. "Come in," And she stepped aside to let me through.

Callie was sat on her knees in the living room, in front of the Television, watching silently. I softly walked up behind her. She felt me, and reached her arms up, carefully wrapping my arms around her neck. I knelt down and hugged her back.

"Tobey," she said quietly. "Nana Jasmine's... dead," And on that word her voice shook, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

I said nothing. I mean, what could I have said? I know what it's like to lose someone, and no words can make that better.

I just held her, and watched the TV over her shoulder. The news came on, and I thought about switching the channel. Surely they wouldn't want to hear it, but nobody moved, so I didn't either. There had been a time when I was able to walk in and out of this house, flicking TV remotes, without anyone batting an eyelid, but that time was gone.

I thought hopefully, If Callie was letting me back in, maybe we could recreate that, but then the news reporter began his monotone recreation of the bomb blast and Callie tensed. I knew it would be a while until she would trust anybody, until Jude was dead.

The headline rang out around the room.

"_McGregor at large,"_


	3. Chapter 3

**O Tobey**

We were walking to school, as usual, but it wasn't usual. Callie was walking fast, a little ahead of me. She had been silent most of the walk, and I knew what she was thinking about. Or rather, who she was thinking about. After a month, the initial pain still hadn't subsided for Callie, and the bombing hung over her every sentence as a constant reminder. When Callie was in moods like these I didn't know what to say and what not to say. And which unsaid things meant something and which didn't.

So I settled for:

"Did you do history?"

Callie nodded, "Two pages," she said.

"I have to go print it out," I said, waving my memory stick. "Do you want to come?"

Callie shook her head, then she added, "No thanks,"

"Alright," I said, "Well, I'll see you at school," I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but I knew if I did, she'd bite my head off for bringing the whole thing up, even though that's clearly all she was thinking about, whether I mentioned it or not.

I started to turn off the road to go to the library. As I did so, Callie stopped walking momentarily. I stopped, as she did.

"Tobey," she said, "Thanks for, you know... I mean I really do... I just don't..." she trailed off. It wasn't like Callie to be unable to find the words.

"Yeah, I get it," I said. She turned and gave me a quick, wobbling smile.

"Well, I'll see you at school," she said.

She turned quickly, and walked swiftly away, looking skittish, like she thought something was going to jump out at her from behind one of the overflowing dustbins. I watched her until she was nearing the end of the road, her head ducked down, her curves still swishing bewitchingly. I couldn't help stopping to watch her walk. I turned sharply away, dragging my eyes away before she noticed. It felt wrong to be thinking about her physical appearance when she was hurting so much on the inside, but sometimes I just couldn't help it, but I just wanted to hug her, and hold her, and kiss her, tell her everything would be okay, and make her feel better.

Why am I so socially inept? I just want her to know I'm here for her. I want her to know I... Can't I get that out in one sentence?

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**OX Callie**

I made sure I put on my 'happy to be at school' face, but I couldn't help giving a heartfelt sigh as I flumped down in my seat. Tobey tries so hard, but sometimes he just doesn't understand when I want to be left alone. Sometimes, to be perfectly honest, Tobey is a right dunce, even though he's so spontaneously clever.

I couldn't fault him though, or anyone else, for that matter. Everyone was being so especially nice to me it was sickening, because I felt so disgusted with myself. I just needed to _stop thinking about it,_ but somehow I couldn't. I just needed something dull to numb my mind, and history would just about do it. The Tudors, most probably.

I was startled from my spiraling thoughts of doom, when a someone sat down in the seat next to me with a clatter. I twisted round in my seat, expecting to see Tobey, but didn't; instead a complete stranger was sat casually in his seat. The boy hadn't even asked. Ruddy cheek! I glared pointedly at him, but he wasn't even looking at me.

He had pale skin, incredibly pale, even for a Nought, and sandy, blonde hair.

"Excuse me," I said, ever so polite, shooting daggers, "This seat's taken,"

"Well, It clearly wasn't," he said, to the table, blowing his fringe lazily out of his eyes. I just wanted to be alone for a second, if possible, and on top of everything else this morning, he was just plain rude. "I'm Oliver," he said, extending his hand. I stared at it, like he'd just offered me a dog turd.

"I'm not shaking your freakin hand!" I said huffily.

He froze immediately, and his hand curled back in slowly. "Oh," he said, "I didn't realise you felt like that," he stood up suddenly, grabbing his bag and books in a hurried, helter skelter fashion. "I guess you're more Cross than you look," he muttered snidely, "I'll just leave,"

I suddenly realised, what I had said, and how it sounded. "No, wait," I said, "That's not what I meant. I didn't say no just because you're a...a Nought,"

He stopped again, in that same sudden freeze, that made him look like he'd just paused to reconsider the situation. "So, why did you say no?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. I was just annoyed, but I didn't mean it like that," I tried to say quickly. "Look sit back down," I said suddenly.

"What?" he said, looking suspicious, like he thought I was making fun of him.

"Just sit back down," I had to prove this. This was one of the only things I had strong morals and beliefs in, and I wasn't going to have him think I was another ignorant Nought hater. If only he knew...

Oliver sat back down in Tobey's seat hesitantly. "There," I said, extending my own hand, "Shake my hand,"

"What?" he said, a small smile twitching in the corner of his mouth.

"Shake my hand. I want you to,"

He slowly, deliberately took my hand, shaking it seriously, and all the while his grin grew wider, and his eyes never left mine. "I'm Callie," I said, as he shook my hand. Then he started laughing. It started as a light chuckle, but soon grew. "What?" I asked, a little offended that he hadn't taken my gesture seriously.

"Well, that was all a bit ridiculous, wasn't it?" he said, his huge smile covering his face.

"I suppose it was," I said, beginning to giggle. Oliver blew his fringe up again, and for some reason that just made the laughter well up, and I burst into a self conscious fit. It felt good, like I hadn't laughed in years. Maybe I hadn't.

Oliver smiled at me, looking at me like he was taking in everything about me in one glance. It was a nice look, sort of piercing.

And that was when I looked up and saw Tobey in the doorway, watching.

He had the strangest look on his face.

I looked at Oliver, in Tobey's seat, and then back to Tobey in the doorway, but he had already moved on. My eyes followed him, to see him walking purposefully towards Misty, who was hinting dramatically to her empty seat, and batting her false eyelashes. Tobey sat down in the empty seat, without speaking or looking at Misty. He was sat, staring straight at me, and his expression was unreadable. I didn't think Tobey was the kind to get the hump over a seat. He was usually Mr chilled, to an irritating degree, but right now he looked so pissed.

I tried to send him an apologetic look, but he didn't seem to see it. I think the mist was momentarily obscuring his vision.

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_A/N: I'm not sure if the Callie seen by Tobey, and the Callie written here exactly flow together, what do you think? I'm also not sure I wrote Tobey entirely well either, which is why it's so short._


	4. Chapter 4

**O Oliver**

I gave Callie a quick smile as I rose from my seat at the end of the lesson. And I made sure I didn't look back as I left the room. I let out a breath as I walked down the corridor.

God, I didn't think I would be so nervous.

She wasn't at all like I had imagined. She was, well, she was good looking. I couldn't think of her like that though, not with all the things I knew.

I loitered in the corridor until the crowds had dispersed to their lessons; I didn't much care about being late. There was only so much my education could do for me, and I was already a year behind. That was another thing about Callie. If I didn't know everyone in the class was a year younger than me, I would have assumed she was the same age. She had an older feeling about her, like she'd seen too much to be young and carefree now. So much more mature than everyone else, but maybe I was just fantasising now.

The Corridor was finally empty, and I leaned back against the wall, just breathing. Calming. That was something I'd been taught. Counting breaths. 'Calm yourself down Ollie'. I wish I could. God, this was so huge! This was so big. Why was I doing this?

It had taken everything I had to make myself sit next to her, and even more to pretend I didn't know who she was. It had been so hard, but at the same time, sort of easy. I had actually relaxed around her, and she was... likeable.

I could see when I looked though, little bits of Jude about her; the ruthlessness, and stubbornness, to name a few. They were right, he had really messed her up. I could also see Callum. Not that I'd ever known him, but I'd seen photographs, in the newspaper mostly. She had the same eyes, and when I'd first sat down and held her gaze it sent a shiver down my spine, they were so alike.

I didn't like to think about Callum. I didn't like to think of the ghosts that haunted me, so when I looked at her, I had tried to block that out. I had to block that out, in order to get close to her, because if I kept thinking about that I knew I'd get the urge to run again. And yet Callum was what connected us, and I admit I was curious about her. I wanted to know her. Callie Rose.

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**OX Callie**

I dropped my bag to the floor and sat on the edge of my seat. I wasn't getting comfy. Judging by Tobey's face he was about to kick me off and demand both seats to himself as pay back. And I didn't blame him. I imagine Tobey's history lesson had been full of hair flicking, eyelash fluttering and overly dramatic hints from Misty. Not fun for him. And Food Technology was not Tobey's favourite lesson either. I stood up and started unloading our ingredients for today.

I don't know why I didn't force Oliver to move. I suppose I just didn't want him to think I was a bitch. I didn't want him to think of me as I thought of myself, but since when did I care what people thought?

Tobey stood in front of the desk, really stiff and straight, which meant he was angry and trying not to show it.

"I want you to know I just had fifty minutes of Misty trying to sound intelligent," he said pointedly to me.

"That must have been entertaining," I answered cheerfully, "Did she keep getting 'Peasants' mixed up with 'Pheasants' again?"

"Yes," he said shortly, "Along with 'The Futile System'," I could see him starting to smile, and relax.

"You should tell her they didn't have hair curlers in the Tudor period," I smirked.

"I told her they didn't wash," Tobey said, and I flipped him a lump of dough over the table, "She was horrified,"

Tobey gave me a quiet smile. It seemed we were good.

"Why was ghost boy sitting in my seat?" Or not.

"I tried to tell him to leave," I shrugged.

"You didn't try very hard," Tobey muttered, and he started kneading dough rather violently.

"Why ghost boy?" I asked, trying not to smile. Tobey was so _sweet _when he was miffed.

"He's the palest person I've ever seen. Is that what you're going for now? Pasty? Should I cover myself in flour or something?" He wasn't really angry now, just messing around.

"Egg yolk as well?" I suggested, and we grinned at each other.

"Seriously though," Tobey said, his smile dropping, "He seemed overly keen to sit next to you,"

"I think you're reading too much into this,"

"Maybe," Tobey said, but that was all he said. We spent the next twenty minuted trying to spin pizza bases like they do on cooking channels, with disastrous results. By the time we'd finished we were _both_ covered in flour, and it made me forget, just for a second, about Uncle Jude.

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**O Tobey**

"Mmmm," Callie said, licking her lips. A tiny fleck of pizza sauce stayed on her chin. She waggled her tongue about a bit, trying to reach it, but couldn't. Then I tried not to laugh, and she began to giggle. It was in that second, that her eyes lit up, and she was happy, before the memory of the bombing, and Jude, came again and the playful light winked out. We carried on walking home, and eating our lumpy, home-made pizzas in silence. I ended up throwing my pizza in the next bin I passed. It was pretty disgusting.

"Here, have some of mine," Callie said, passing me her half pizza, "Suddenly I'm not that hungry," - meaning she was thinking about it all again. I took it though – what can I say? My stomach does not share the same sympathy as my head.

"I thought I smelt the delectable scent of a tomato and cheese pizza!" Came a voice from behind us. I didn't recognise it, but Callie half turned.

"Oliver?" she said.

Crap, ghost boy. Oliver sidled up to Callie, with his sickly pale face, and almost white hair. He looked like he'd been bleached.

"Two for you Durbridge?" he said, grinning. It was like he was mentally adding 'greedy pig'. Idiot!

I couldn't chuck it now though, and with my mouth full I couldn't retaliate. It must have shown on my face though. I think I might have stopped chewing and momentarily froze because Callie started to smile.

"He's just joking Tobey," she said, before turning back to Oliver and asking what I was thinking, "What are you doing here?" Only she didn't say it with the quiet menace I was sending, she said it like she was glad to see him.

"I moved in round here, somewhere," he answered vaguely. Yeah, right. "I actually forgot what street. One with a big, yellow skip, I think," He continued talking, and the dough inside my mouth felt like it was expanding. Maybe it hadn't risen properly or something. "And then I saw you two, so... if you could..."

Callie made a polite answering noise. I could sense what was coming, and hurriedly swallowed my mouthful.

"The street with the yellow skip is Elmville Road, that way," I said, pointing, sending him away. He got the message, and said something like, 'best be getting home'.

No way was he snatching Callie off with pleas of walking him home. How pathetic, right? I don't know what It was, but I didn't like Oliver. I wasn't jealous, it wasn't that.

Okay, I was jealous, but it wasn't that.

I had seen the way he had looked at Callie as he entered the history class. Straight at her. It was like he was looking for her. And his expression had been strange, one I couldn't figure out, before he had carefully wiped it clean.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: For you! Nice and long!_

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O **Jude**

The only sounds were the not too distant roar of the traffic outside, and my fingers tapping impatiently on the table top. My only thoughts were of the LM. I was either back on top, or out for good. Out for the count.

I was waiting tensely at an out of the way bar for my pick up.

They had gotten a message to me, through Morgan. The phone call had been short and bitter; he hadn't approved of the Isis Bomb Blast, not that I needed his approval, but it reminded me that a lot of higher ups would be happy to sign my death warrant, and for them this was the cherry on the cake in their case against me.

It had drawn unwanted attention, and given weight to the 'Liberation Militia random killing spree' theory. To them it just looked like my personal vendetta against the Hadley family. None of them knew about my plan with Callie and Kamal Hadley and they all assumed Jasmine had been the intended victim, but she had no value, and didn't further our cause, so in their eyes I had carried out the unnecessary murder of a well known figure. Bad Press, that was the problem.

This stunt cast suspicion on me in the LM circles, and the mistake might just cost me my position in the LM. After this it would be easy for them to convince others of my danger to the cause, and have me removed. I was actually surprised I hadn't already gotten a bullet in the back of my head, but that kept me optimistic that there wasn't a mutiny against me just yet; that was why I was still sitting in this bar, in full view.

Sipping my cheap espresso, I kept my eyes on the street outside, and soon enough they arrived. The blacked out car pulled smoothly to a stop in front of the bar. Still I made no sign, carefully keeping my expression neutrally bored, and turned my head down to the table top, though I was still looking at them. The window rolled down gracefully revealing a clean shaven man in a smart suit, who peered into the bar, before spotting me. With his eyes watching my every movement, I inconspicuously pulled my collar up a little.

The man looked away, unconcerned, tapped the side of the car, _Drive on_, and the window slid up again.

I watched the car roll casually round the corner. Then I slowly, laboriously, finished my coffee. Unhurried, in no rush. I slowly counted out my change, leaving it on the counter, I smiled at the waitress, before leaving the bar.

I zipped my jacket up further, pulling my hat down against the cold, shoving my hands in my pockets, as I walked leisurely down the pavement, around the corner to where I knew the car would be parked, as agreed. As I approached the car the window slid down again.

"What took you so long?" asked the Lieutenant General.

"I finished my coffee," I said grudgingly.

"Please get in the car... Sir," He added it quickly onto the end of the sentence. So it wasn't 'General' any more.

His attitude put me on guard. He was confident that he would get my position if I was removed, and he was acting arrogant about it. So, he thought he was in with a chance did he? He should have known I was not going to go quietly.

Once the car was well on it's way to nowhere, winding through the nondescript streets, the real conversation began.

"Sir," the suited man started, well aware that, for now, I was still his superior.

"General," I corrected, very quietly, with a warning.

He bowed his head in mock apology before continuing, "General. I was wondering if you could disclose to me the motive behind the Isis Bomb Blast? As you know we need to keep our movements controlled and organised,"

"Yes," I replied, just as icily polite, "I agree, but I have my own reasons for concealing that information. The bombing was only part of the bigger picture, and that will be revealed in time, but not yet, in order to keep as much hidden from the authorities as possible,"

Sometimes even I had to marvel at my ability to lie convincingly on the spot.

"Of course Sir," The Lieutenant General murmured. I was feeling oddly insecure, like I was being taken for a ride. I was supposed to be the one in control of the situation, and in fact the entire Militia, but this man seemed to be forgetting that.

"General," I growled, losing my patience with the careful, diplomatic talk. "And don't forget it. Now what's the real issue here?"

"After that seemingly random attack, there are some doubting your ability to govern the LM," The man said quietly.

I tensed. He wouldn't have revealed that, or been so truthful, if he didn't think he had the upper hand on me. Something was wrong, or more wrong than I had first thought.

"Where are we going?" I asked suddenly. The Lieutenant General looked at me. "Stop the car!" I ordered sharply.

"General," The Lieutenant General smiled triumphantly, "Your services to the cause are no longer required,"

He was reaching inside his jacket... I knew as soon as I did the same, he would do it faster.

Then the car screeched to a stop suddenly, throwing us both forward into the front seat; neither of us were wearing seat belts. I whacked my head against the window, dazing me slightly, but I recovered first, yanking at the door handle, and leaping out of the car as fast as I could.

"Morgan!" The Lieutenant General scolded as he scrambled out of the car, and in the driver's seat, I saw someone I recognised.

"Traitor," I hissed at him. He said nothing in return, no denial, or apology, but I didn't really care, he had stopped being my, if not friend then ally, years ago. I backed away into the road as the Lieutenant General got out of the car and straightened up. The road was somewhere in the county, completely deserted, and the empty fields were sort of haunting, and lonely. Perfect for the occasion.

I reached inside my jacket, my hand closing around the cold metal. Pulling out the evil little pistol, I aimed it levelly at the Lieutenant General's face. "I do not like people doubting my loyalty or my motives," I told him sternly.

"Yes General," he said shakily, he had his eyes closed, never doubting that I would do it. I cocked it carefully, my finger on the trigger.

_Bang._

The man's face went white, and then after a moment he looked at my gun in confusion. I had already twigged, showing why I was the General and he was second in command.

I turned quickly to face the sound, somewhere to my left. I hadn't fired, and the bang had been the accidental gunshot of the man who was now sprinting towards me over the tarmac, raising his arm again, his car a few feet away. My assassin had stupidly chosen a Mark 3 model, dangerously hard to reload, and now he was having trouble getting in a second shot after his first missed opportunity.

I was faster than them both, and I took them down. A bullet each. Nice and easy. Stone dead.

My only witness was Morgan.

I turned to face him. He looked me straight in the eye, and I saw with surprise that he wasn't afraid.

"Jude," he said quietly, and I actually winced.

"General!" I almost shouted. He ignored me.

"Not any more. The LM overruled you, and they won't reclaim you. There's an order out for your immediate removal. They won't stop until you're dead, you know that," Morgan grimly got out of the car. "At least you're not going to hang Jude, but with the LM after your blood, and the cops holding the keys to your cell, you have to decide yourself which is the most honourable way to die, because I think you deserve that Jude. A moment of honour," I said nothing. "I know you have to shoot me, but please," he said, removing his jacket, "Just a flesh wound,"

I did as he wanted, silently raised the gun again, clipping him in the shoulder. Morgan swayed lightly, dropping to the ground, as the wind made a shushing noise through the grasses on either side. _Shush_. Dead bodies in the ditch. _Shush_, it's a secret. I stood with the whistling wind, looking at Morgan's unconscious, impassive face. I didn't call the ambulance for him; I couldn't as I didn't know where we were.

Three dead bodies later, cold blooded killers at my back, and a life sentence hanging over my head, I was out of the LM, for good.

I didn't care.

That was the worst part. The LM had been my life for so long, and now it was gone, and I just didn't care. I walked quickly away. I took the assasin's car; it was less conspicious, the keys were still in the lock, and I didn't feel like rifling through the pockets of corpses. I drove north, just fast enough to whip away any unwanted thoughts.

So this was it. I was going freelance.

I was sure I could dodge their attempts to kill me, after all I was the highest ranking officer, and it took a lot more than any of them had to get to the top. And at least now, I could concentrate solely on my own agenda – destroying the Hadley bitches.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The whole vomit chair thing actually happened to me. I thought I'd add it in here to make Tobey's day just a little bit worse.

* * *

**O Tobey**

It made my stomach want to crawl out my mouth, seeing Oliver lean closer to Callie as she talked animatedly with him. To my extreme annoyance, Oliver continued to stalk Callie, and turn up every-bloody-where we went, and he had pretty much overtaken my seat in History. I had to put up with Misty's attempts at seduction, just because I didn't want Callie to think I was jealous. Not that I was jealous. And even if I was, why didn't I just go and kick the vampire out of my seat? Because I was too damn polite. That's why.

As soon as ghost boy had whisped off with a pale wave, I scooted over to Callie.

"What were you talking about?" Callie started to grin. I knew what she was thinking. "Not that I care," I added.

"We were talking," Callie said primly, "about the social prejudice against Noughts, and how society could rectify that,"

"You can talk about that with me," I said, not caring if I sounded green eyed.

"I have talked about that with you, so much, that we've pretty much gone over every argument we can think of. It's good getting a different insight, and Oliver has some new ideas,"

The way Callie was talking like he was some sort of super visionary, I admit, got me more than a bit irritated.

"Maybe we should start a debating club?" She suggested brightly.

"What a _private _debating club, a debating _duo, _Hadley and Grimey's exclusive debating club?" I said, not quite under my breath, sarcasm lacing my words.

"His name's 'Hargrim', and you know it. What's up your arse?" Callie glared at me; she felt she was being got at.

"Nothing," I said sourly.

"If you're going to be like that I'd rather be alone," Callie said quietly, standing up.

"No, Callie wait," I followed her hurriedly, but too late. She disappeared into the crowds of school children in the corridor, and when Callie wanted to disappear, she really did.

I sighed to myself. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be supporting her, wasn't I?

I sloped off to the library by myself, dejected, to look up 'Religious Dress Code', of all things.

* * *

"I'm sorry, all the computers are taken," The Librarian said, pursing her lips at me.

"Are you sure? It's just that I have to research something for next period," I explained testily, my patience with today was wearing thin. "I need a computer,"

"You should have booked a time," The woman glared down at me from her desk dominion. "You'll have to wait until another student finishes,"

"Fine, I'll wait," I snapped, rudely turning my back on her and stalking towards the quiet area.

I dropped my bag on the floor, and sank into a vacant armchair. I soon found out why this one was vacant in the middle of a crowded lunch period, when the nauseating smell of day old vomit rose around me as the cushions wheezed. I nearly gagged and jumped up, as a group of nearby fourteen year olds giggled at me.

I chose a hardback seat instead, and dumped my bag on the desk, looking over at the line of computers to see if anyone was close to finishing.

As if my mood could not get any worse.

I stared at the back of the head of sickeningly pale vampire boy, who was on _my _computer. Oliver clicked with snail like slowness over the hyperlinks. Could he go any slower?

And then, as If to purposefully infuriate me more, he began to type with stupid, stabbing, one finger motions. Godsake! I wanted to shout at him, spit at him, that he was muscling in on my computer, my girl, my patch. Slimy Git.

I determinedly turned my back on him, getting out a random book from my back, I ended up flicking through GCSE science revision – not that I needed it.

Twenty minutes later I looked back. Halfway through lunch, and he wasn't finished? The other computers were occupied by feverishly typing students with pages of word documents. He almost looked bored, like he wasn't even trying. He wasn't even doing work now, but clicking over some random site. _Fifty facts you didn't know. _What the heck was that?

I decided the remaining time, and the computer would be better used by me. Picking up my bag and defiantly hitching it onto my shoulder I made my way towards him.

Oliver didn't notice me coming up behind him, but I was a few yards away when I could see easily what he was reading.

I stopped dead, but I kept reading. The heading of the page was _'The McGregor Curse: Inherited Mistakes?_

I saw the tabs at the bottom of the page, _Ryan McGregor, Jude McGregor, Callum McGregor._

Standing completely still, reading silently over his shoulder, I saw Oliver move the mouse down and click on _Callum McGregor._ I knew what happened. I knew it in facts, and what Callie had told me, but seeing it written down like this was almost unbearable to read. I kept thinking, 'this is how the world sees it'.

_Callum Mcgregor, Liberation Militia soldier...Callum McGregor, took part in the kidnapping of Persephony Hadley...Callum McGregor, charged on four counts of murder...Callum McGregor, hanged._

It must have only been seconds, but it felt longer. After a moment Oliver felt me standing just behind him. His body tensed, and then he took a quick look over his shoulder. His eyes met mine, and they widened, in horror, in realisation. His blonde head flipped back to the screen, and then back to me.

I took a step back, as he half rose in his seat, his eyes on me, filled with worry, for himself only. He frantically tried to close the pages. He winced when an error notice blinked up on the screen, keeping them visible. He turned back to me, still trying to emergency quit the site, he mouthed at me, 'Don't tell Callie...please'.

Up until that point it could have been coincidence, but if I needed any confirmation, that was it. I shook my head, my homework forgotten, blundering out of the library. Oliver knew about Callie and her Dad. Oliver was bad news. I knew it.

* * *

Rushing, pushing through the throngs of students, and just when I needed to most, I couldn't find Callie. Would she even listen to me after the way I had acted this morning? Would she believe me if I told her about Oliver? I blurred through the classrooms, lunchrooms, even staff rooms, with no luck. There was no sign of her anywhere. I was beginning to get desperate, wondering if Oliver had gotten to her first, explaining it away before I could accuse him, or if I was mistaken, and overreacting.

Eventually I found myself in the one place I knew she wasn't; the boys toilets, and that's where Oliver cornered me.

"You're misunderstanding Tobey," he said desperately, like he was begging me to believe him, but still with the same lilt of arrogance.

"Am I?" I said quietly. I could see him standing just behind me in the mirror, judging him, and although he was taller than me, I guessed if this came to the worst, I was stronger than him.

"You only care about Callie because she's connected to the McGregors," I accused him, "Callie doesn't have anything to do with them, so leave her alone,"

"Callie lives with Meggie McGregor, _their_ mother," Oliver countered, a hard note in his voice. "But like I said, that's not what this is about,"

When he said '_their' _it sounded like something more than hatred for two terrorists, and judging by the way he was acting, and things he was saying so far, I'd say he knew a lot more than he was letting on.

"I'm not here to do anything to Callie," he said gently, in a practiced, reassuring voice. I resented being talked to like an inferior.

I spun around to face him, but I could only see him in the mirror, and as I flipped round suddenly that image disappeared. I turned to face where he had been, but he had already sneaked up behind me, snaking an arm round my neck and wrenching me back against the mirrors.

It didn't hurt, much, but there was the definite feeling that the grip could tighten, and however much I struggled, I couldn't break free of him. Those white, pipe-cleaner arms had a lot of strength in them.

Burning with embarrassment, and intensely thankful that there was no one else here, I heard Oliver say in my ear, "Please don't tell Callie. I'll tell her soon, what I know, but _I have _to do this, just to be sure,"

I had no idea what he was talking about, but the way he was talking scared me. There was a tremor in his voice, and he sounded frantic, weirdly urgent, which doesn't go well with unbreakable headlocks, and somehow made him seem vulnerable. "_Please, _I have to,"

And then he loosened his hold, simultaneously doing a complicated little foot movement that sent me crashing to the floor. I groaned, my back aching, as he fled the bathroom. The only person I knew who could fight as accurately and well rehearsed as that was Callie.

That was Liberation Militia fighting.


	7. Chapter 7

**O**** Meggie**

I heard the shrill ring of the phone again. One, two, three... seven rings. They seemed to echo out around the silent house, but that was only because I felt so vulnerable and alone. After seven rings the caller hung up. I recognised it. The caller rang about every three hours, always hanging up after seven. I hadn't been able to bring myself to answer it. I just sat in the kitchen waiting for the next call.

Sephy was home within the next three hours, cheerily packing away the shopping. She paused for a moment to ask me if I wasn't feeling well. I suppose it must have been showing on my face. I gladly took the excuse, saying that I was feeling rather ill and maybe I would go to bed, but halfway to the stairs the phone rang again. I froze on the stairs, just listening to it.

Sephy picked up the phone on the fourth ring, saying "Hello," chirpily into the receiver. I saw her remove the piece from her ear, and frown at it.

"They hung up," she said to me, seeing me wavering on the stairs. "Probably some kids playing a joke," she dismissed it.

I sat upstairs, in my chair by the bed. I was half-heartedly poking through a gardening magazine, but my mind was on other things. In the next two hours I had reached my decision.

Sephy found me in the living room crouching over the phone like a giant bird, waiting for it to ring.

"Meggie, what-" she began. She probably thought I was cracking up, going senile, but then the phone interrupted her.

I picked it up and said into the phone as quickly as I could, "Jude?"

Sephy's eyebrows shot up, but she remained silent. Maybe she just couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't either. I didn't know what to do next, but thank God he didn't hang up. Thank God.

There was a few seconds of breathing on the other end, and then:

"I'm not calling for you," Jude's reply came harsh and clear from the other end. My breath caught in my throat; just hearing his voice, despite the venom, made me well up. My son was alive.

"I know," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I'm very glad you're alive Jude," I knew that didn't mean much now, but I had to say it. I saw Sephy's expression curdle in disbelief or disgust.

"Really." Jude said. His voice flat and emotionless. He just broke my heart. "I'm calling for Callie," he said, just as coldly.

"Why?" I asked quietly.

"There are some things I need to explain," Jude said. He was talking to me like he didn't know me. Like I was a stranger.

"She's not here," I said, even quieter, if possible. "Please leave her alone Jude,"

There was no reply from the other end. I knew this was a pointless question and I wouldn't like whatever answer he gave, but I couldn't stop myself. "Was it really you who murd... killed those men on the moors?"

There was a pause.

"It was in self defence. They would have killed me first, although that hardly bothers you now, does it?"

I gasped. I hadn't expected an answer like that. I hadn't expected him to be so cruel about it, although I knew I deserved it. The only thing I could think to say was, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. You've freed me from every obligation I ever had," I couldn't think what that meant, but it didn't sound good.

Again a pointless question, but the one thing I had to hang onto was hope.

"Jude, will you turn yourself in to the authorities?"

I hadn't expected the laughter either. And I realised then I hadn't heard him laugh in years. Not since he was a little boy. This didn't sound like my son's laughter. I was low, and hard and dangerous. A predators laugh, I couldn't help thinking.

"I don't think so," he said, still chuckling. There were tears in my eyes now. I couldn't recall the point at which I'd lost him, but it had been before the bomb blast, years before, but I think neither of us could bare to admit it. Now he could. Now he didn't care, about any thing or any one; except nursing his hatred, and vengeance, I realised, as he said again, "Where's Callie?"

"Don't touch her Jude," I said, more strongly. "She's your niece, and my grandchild. I won't -"

He interrupted me, but not by talking over me, by talking under me, so quiet that I stopped speaking to hear what he was saying.

"I notice you don't care this much about your _other _grandchild,"

It took me a second to work out what he had just said, and then my mouth gaped open like a gut fish. A whole new wave of emotions came and went.

Finally I managed, "You never said there was anyone...You have a child?"

"Not me," Jude said, and I imagined I could hear something there. Not quite sadness, but maybe something like it.

"But Lynny couldn't have..." I stuttered.

"Callum," Jude said. "Surely you wouldn't deprive that information from Callie?" He continued in a reasonable voice, "That she has a sibling,"

"But-" I began, before I was cut off, but not by Jude.

"_Keep your lies away from me and my family!" _Sephy rose in front of me, holding the second phone, the other line, her face like thunder.

"No lies, Sephy, No lies," I heard Jude reply, almost laughing again.

"_Stay away from us!" _She shouted into the phone. _"Just stay away!"_

I heard Jude laugh again, before he hung up and the line went dead.

Sephy sank to the floor, cradling the phone. "I don't believe this," she said weakly, but with such determination I thought she actually might refuse to believe it. "I don't believe this,"

"You heard everything?" I almost whispered, knowing the answer. Sephy's hand was clenching the phone so tight her knuckles were whitening. She nodded.

"We have to tell Callie before he gets to her," I said, feeling like I was in some spy film, trying to ignore that I was talking about the war between my son and his niece.

"No!" Sephy said strongly, a little too loudly. "It's lies. He's lying. There's no point telling Callie more lies,"

But, I wanted to say, If it is true, and he tells her, It will all happen again. What if this time she hates us both forever?

And if it is true, Callum has another child somewhere in the world that needs to be saved from him.

But then again, he could be lying, couldn't he?

He just didn't sound as if he was.


	8. Author Note

**This has been copied and pasted from my profile page. 07/March/2011  
**

"Hi.

I'm sorry none of this has been updated in years.

I've moved over to Fictionpress where I'm writing my own original stories. If you like my writing here, and I assume we have similar taste in books, then you might like what I'm writing now, so check it out.

I'm sending out a huge big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and all your lovely comments on my writing. It's been so supportive and encouraging.

I'm really glad people are still reading and enjoying my stuff. Unfortunately I doubt I'll update these anymore, but I know some of them need an ending desperately. :) So I've put a poll at the top to decide which story I'm going to finish properly for you.

Thanks so much for reading,

Alias x"


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